


The Musings of an Idiot

by marbletown



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Comedy, Fluff, Harry Potter Next Generation, Post War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 16:17:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10812528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marbletown/pseuds/marbletown
Summary: What Scorpius likes.





	The Musings of an Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Scorpius liked her mouth. It was small and it poised into a pout. And when she pursed her lips her mouth became all the smaller. But her lips seemed warm, and they were full, and a dark rich pink which contrasted against her very pale skin. 

When she smiled her lips stretched out pleasantly, showing her blinding white teeth. How was that even possible? When she used the muggle method of teeth-brushing?  
   
He liked her jaw and her chin. Her jaw was strong and, some would say, rather manly. But Scorpius liked it all the more because it represented her tough character. Anyway, her chin soothed the effect of her jaw, for it was pointy and sharp and feminine.

Scorpius liked her neckline. It was smooth and dainty and, probably, so very soft. 

Once, during third year, he had been spying on her whilst Quidditch practice, and had been shocked out of his wits when he noticed freckles speckled on her neckline; and he realised that they traveled further down, where he couldn't see. 

He liked freckles. He loved the fact that her freckles weren't restricted solely to her face. He imagined were those freckles could lead.

He liked her figure: small and short and sturdy and somewhat curvy; her firm rounded legs - which he rarely had the chance to see - from playing Quidditch.

He really liked her wrists and her hands; they were slender and sharp, and looked fragile; which was awfully misleading, for she was, indeed, a very capable and very swift Quidditch player.

He liked her hair. It was dark and red and crackled with energy. It was…big, and curly and very frizzy and soft, so very soft. He would like to sink his face into it.

He liked her eyes. He really liked her eyes. They were very dark, almost black. They weren’t cold, but not warm either. They were hard and lively and stubborn and intelligent. Her eyes were big and her eyelids heavy and bushy with dark eyelashes.

Whenever she would look up, her heavy eyelids would lift and show her glittering black eyes behind her darkish lashes, and his stomach would lurch and he would start sweating and trembling faintly. Her eyebrows would lift ever so slightly, questioningly, mockingly, and he would smile coldly and-

He liked her eyebrows. They were bushy and wild like her hair. Not contained in the slightest. Not plucked nor shaped into a thin ending.

Then she would wrinkle her nose and give a sideways smirk to join her teasing expression. And he would look away and sniff loftily because he didn’t approve of childish nonsense and couldn’t care less for-

Her nose; her nose was just adorable. Not so much itself as what she did with it. It was very expressive, her nose. She’d scrunch it up in pain, or wrinkle it in disgust, or flare her nostrils with anger, or those little crinkles would appear at each side of it when she laughed. It was small and sharp, and it pointed upwards in a snub manner. 

And then she would speak up in that deep, loud, musical voice that he liked so much and say arrogantly ‘Want a picture?’ 

And he would scoff ‘As if!’

Because no, he didn’t want a picture - thank you very much; he didn’t need a picture. 

And she would frown with those lovely, bushy and of the darkest red, eyebrows and snap ‘Then piss off, Malfoy’

And he would; because Scorpius Malfoy did not like Rose Weasley.


End file.
